


we've come unstuck

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Scars, Surgery, Trans Female Character, Trans Greg House, Trans James Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 15:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17921672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Wilson has bottom surgery, and House is a bit worried.





	we've come unstuck

**Author's Note:**

> trans wlw hilson... Yes.... i am a visionary
> 
> for femslashficlets' weekly challenge, the prompt being 'scar'
> 
> enjoy!

House is a bit worried. A lot worried. She made sure to get Wilson the best surgeon on gender affirming matters in the whole of Jersey, made sure to pull some strings, but what if Wilson’s not happy with her results? What if she curls up into herself like she always does when she’s upset (because she never has something to be upset to be about, House’s life is so much _worse_ )? She just wants Wilson to be happy.

It’s a little bit unnerving, but Wilson is having bottom surgery, and she’s gonna be happy for her. Maybe won’t be able to express it properly, maybe she’ll just make jokes, but she’ll try her damn best. They met twenty years ago, barely putting up the farce of them being men, and it’s been so long. She’s been in estrogen for almost a decade now, and Wilson is going for the five-year mark.

House is there when the anesthesia starts to fizzle out, as Wilson starts to wake up, looking dazed out of her mind. She can’t exactly move yet, skin grafts were taken out of her thigh to help with the reconstruction.

“Hey,” House says.

Wilson looks up at her and smiles. “We’re—” her voice is thick with exhaustion. “We’re the same now…”  
  
She blinks. Of all the things she could’ve said, she didn’t expect this one. “Huh?”

Wilson makes the effort of pulling off the bedsheets from her left leg— there’s a huge, red scar over her thigh. “Scar,” she breathes.

House laughs a little. “Scar,” she agrees before standing up and kissing her girlfriend’s forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be right here.”  
  
“Scar,” she mumbles.

The anesthesia hasn’t fully worn off if House had to guess. Wilson is loopy and tired and if it wasn’t for her being a bit worried about her girlfriend’s exhaustion levels, she’d be sure to record her say nonsense. “Yeah,” she nods. “Scar. Sleep.”  
  
“Love you.” 

She shakes her head and watches as Wilson falls back asleep, leaning into her hand and watching her chest fall and rise. It’s been a long time; she remembers Wilson coming out to her, her being so afraid that she was copying House, her being so afraid of what people would say. If her patients would hate her. She had soothed her with honest words— s _ome of them will hate you, the world sucks, but you’ll look great when you look like how you think you should look._

And now she does. House is happy for her, ridiculously so. All she knows is that her heart beats hard for Wilson, for Wilson being happy in her own skin— she’s ecstatic for her, but she doesn’t know quite how to express it. Maybe she should bake her something, maybe she should just kiss her senseless.

When Wilson is more or less recovered from the initial phase— when she can walk again, she’s tired.

“Did Cuddy move all my appointments?” she asks, yawning. “I don’t remember…”  
  
“Of course she did,” House says. “She referred the terminal cases to New York Mercy, I think.”   
  
“Ah.” Wilson pulls the covers over herself. She’s been in bed for the last few weeks, House making her little things for her to eat so she doesn’t have to rely on take-out as she did before surgery. “Thanks, House.”   
  
“It’s no problem.” 

She pauses for a second and looks up at her. “Genevieve?”  
  
A well-known warmth spreads through her at the use of her first name. The first name she chose for herself. “Yes?”   
  
“I love you.”

She nods and tucks her in, leaves water on her bedside.

When she goes to bed, she has to pull the covers away, has to see as Wilson hums and squirms a little. The scars are less red, but still so so visible.

“Can I touch them?” House asks as she gets closer to her.

“Yeah,” she nods, tucking her hair away behind her ear. “If I can touch yours after.”

House rolls her eyes. “Of course.”

She kisses her and runs her fingers along her scar. Afterward, House turns and Wilson does the same— her scar is uglier if the fact it’s a missing muscle rather than missing skin makes any difference. But Wilson kisses her neck and touches and tells her how beautiful she is.

House doesn’t say I love you, but she thinks it as hard as she can when she pulls Wilson into a soft kiss and falls asleep at her side.


End file.
